Chris and I visited my aunt Hilda, uncle Lou and cousin Marcelo in Englewood Cliffs, this weekend, as well as their adorable, recently adopted puppy, Toby. 

No.  Actually, my aunt and cousin claim that my uncle adopted Toby.  Uncle Lou had everything to do with the adoption of a 3-month-old, mixed-breed cotton ball with a big, black patch on his eye who instantly became a member of our family. 

Uncle Lou is in his late-seventies and in remission from stomach cancer.  He battles Parkinson's disease and, at times, finds himself in a great deal of pain.  So he spends a lot of time at home or near his home base where he, with very shaky hands, tends to a large garden, grills meats out back for his friends and neighbors (who easily total to twelve people on some weekends) and serves what seems to be an endless flow of wine and other assorted alcohol to his guests.   

His motto?  The more, the merrier.

One afternoon, perhaps "happified" by a glass of wine or two, my uncle discovered that a friend was looking for a puppy parent.  And the rest was history.  


    Squidoo    


And, really, I can't blame uncle Lou.  Toby is one heck of an adorable, furry fella.  He's half-Shih Tzu and half...  Benji?  We're not exactly sure about the little guy's background, to be honest.  We just know that this is his third (and final) home.  Not to mention that Toby's similarities to Benji don't make the mystery any easier to crack.  Benji was a mixed breed, himself.

My aunt and cousin weren't ready for this change back in May.  Marcelo lives his days in a wheelchair.  Just getting out of bed and preparing for work takes a significant amount of effort, even with the assistance of a part-time nurse.  He has a social life to maintain, too.  And the fact that Marcelo's previous dog died in his arms doesn't help to reopen his heart to a new best friend. 

Meanwhile, my aunt tends to the needs of my uncle, my cousin and the household.  Then herself.  She can barely sneak out to a Yoga class for a breather during the week, let alone care for a puppy.

Well, I don't care if Toby is half Pit Bull.  Granted, if he were, he'd be the tiniest, cutest Pit Bull mix at 15-20 lbs.  But he's not. 

What matters is that, since he moved in last Spring, Toby's brought joy to my family.  Laughter.  A couple of messes, too.  He pooped in the house, once.  By accident.  However, he's grown a bit this summer, lessening the responsibilities involved in caring for him.  Uh, somewhat   He's still tiny and can get into trouble.  Not in the house.  Outside of it.  He sometimes eats random objects from the ground, including twigs and other stuff, because they're interesting to him.  And one time, a determined Toby, intent on running after a neighborhood dog, squeezed his head under the gate and slid outward SIDEWAYS.  The booger was creative, sure.  But not fast enough.  My aunt, about to suffer a cardiac arrest, hugged his belly and slid him right back where he came from, scolding him. 

Toby never pulled that trick again.  For one thing, his head has grown too big to squeeze through the gate.  For another, he learned the meaning of the word "no".

During our visit, my husband and I realized that the backyard continued to be a jungle for Toby.  The happy puppy would dive into the grass and run all over the place.  All we could see from a short distance away was his wagging tail.  He also performed really high jumps and leaps.  It rained the night before, so the soil was damp.  Add to that a fresh Toby, and you had a pooch who quickly turned from white to brown, small wet peaks of fur having formed along his belly.  Whenever he ran up to us with kisses, he'd drench our pants with his wet paws.  I found the whole scene funny, but took the opportunity to teach him how to sit.  We brought along a bag of holistic dog treats for him made out of carrots, oats and honey as a gift that conveniently served as a lesson boost.  So I snuck away into the kitchen to open it.

Naturally, Toby followed my footsteps into the house.  But the bag was difficult to pry open, and he lost his patience.  He followed my uncle around, instead, until the two of them headed back outside and into the yard, the puppy looking upward at his pop in hopes of a bite of lettuce.

Several minutes later, I got the damn bag open.  I headed out into the yard and offered a half-treat to Toby.  Half because the cookies were rather large for him, and because I wanted to see if he could digest it well, first.  Last I heard, Toby vacuumed what appeared to have been raw hide from a friend, and it came out of him in the form of the runs.  I didn't wish to take that chance.

It took a while for Toby to grasp the "sit" command.  I'd say "sit".  He'd jump.  I'd say "sit" again.  He'd circle before me, ready to play.  This went on for a couple of minutes, until he figured out what he wasn't doing.  Namely taking a seat and relaxing his butt.

Finally, Toby sat.  For about five seconds, but he sat.  Thus, within that short amount of time, he earned his treat just as I'd promised him.  And as the evening progressed, he sat for me a few more times, even if he didn't earn anything.  Even while all the adults were feasting on grilled steaks, sweet potatoes and bananas.  He impressed us all!

When it was time to head home, Marcelo asked me if I placed Toby's new treats on his table.

"Toby has a table?" I asked.

"Yup.  Toby's table is right next to dad's pool table"

I saw it.  The table was small, round and it'd already housed a number of treats, including plain Cheerios and snausages.  Smiling a huge smile, I tucked the new cookies right in with the rest, slipping the other half of Toby's treat out and resealing the bag.

"That's where Toby goes whenever he does something good.  Like, after he plays with his toys, does a few jumps or goes to the bathroom where he's supposed to go..."

How.  Freakin'.  Cute.  Toby looked at my cousin as if he'd approved of the entire conversation.  Then he walked over to me (and his table) and sat, thumping his tail on the floor. 

I gave him his other cookie-half. 

Chris and I said our farewells to everyone.  But my aunt and Toby walked us to our car.  We gave her a hug and then backed away as she closed the gate behind us to prevent puppy from escaping.  From the other side, I kneeled down to Toby, petting him and saying goodbye.  He loaded my hands with kisses as my aunt lit a cigarette.

The two of them waited by the gate until we pulled out of the driveway, Toby in his new sitting position.  Chris and I let out a big "AW" and waved.  We would miss the stinker.

Riding away, I powered on some music for the two of us.  And from my passenger seat, I marveled at just how special a tiny table of treats and toys was to the puppy.   That's all it took to make his heart happy, his tail thump-thump?  And yet he brought so much to my family in return?

Not fair, I thought. 

I wondered about what else could go on Toby's table...